


Sunrise. Sunset.

by silverbook



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon-Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, No Dialogue, Remus being stupid, Warning: Tonks slaps Remus in the face, but we love him anyway, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverbook/pseuds/silverbook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Moment from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.</p>
<p>Remus is stupidly noble (the stupidly is the important part) and tries to leave Tonks and the unborn baby after he panics about him being a werewolf putting them in danger. This is the aftermath and resolution we never got to see in Deathly Hallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunrise. Sunset.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote a really long time ago. I am posting it now in order to motivate myself to write other things. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. :)
> 
> NB: I liked ellipses a lot when I wrote this (I was young!), and though I have been through and deleted a LOT of them, there may still be too many. Forgive me.

His wife’s hand impacted hard on the side of his face, snapping his head violently to the side. Turning back he looked into her eyes and almost recoiled at what he saw there. Remus had been slapped by Dora often enough, generally for being a noble idiot, but never had he seen her look at him before with such disgust and anger. And the pain… the pain in her eyes hit him like a physical blow, forcing him to take a step backwards. He couldn’t bear to meet her eyes anymore and see what his departure had done to her. So he remained silent, there was nothing he could say, and simply waited. The power was in her hands now; she could send him away or take him back, as she chose. And he would comply with whatever fate she chose for him.

He had been an idiot; Remus freely admitted that to himself, a prat, a noble git, and all the other names that she so frequently called him. But this time he deserved it more than he ever had before. She had every right to send him out of her life forever. He hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t blame her if she did. Wouldn’t protest either. He’d accept his fate silently, just as he always had before, when the world decided to deny him anything and everything.

If she didn’t want him in her life anymore… he felt sick at the very thought. Never seeing her again: he didn’t know if he could stand that, if he would be able to live without her now that she had become so much a part of his life. Yet he’d been prepared to do exactly that to protect her just a couple of days ago. But somehow, her banishing him would hurt so much more than banishing himself. And the last week had been painful for him too. Undoubtedly, Dora’s suffering had been worse, he didn’t deny that, but it hadn’t been easy for him either. But if that was what she wanted, he would comply. 

And as they stood there in silence for a long agonising moment of time, Remus wanted desperately to break it, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t up to him. So he just stood there, a sinner waiting for judgement, in front of his wife and waited for her decision.

* * * * *

To say Tonks was furious would have been an understatement. Even to say that she was livid would be downplaying it a fair bit. In truth, Tonks had never been so close to drawing her wand on her husband and hexing him until he could feel some particle of the pain she’d gone through this last, long week. So it was with difficulty that she restrained herself from inflicting all the hexes she knew, and they were fairly numerous, on her stupid git of a husband. And it didn’t exactly help that she was two months pregnant and starting to feel it, something that also happened to be because of him. Which brought her back to the very reason she was currently struggling not to kill her husband.

He’d left her, left the baby… their baby, abandoned her to fend for herself. No doubt for some foolish self-sacrificing reason that he was so good at convincing himself was for her own good! Why she’d had to go and marry the biggest noble prat she knew, she couldn’t figure out. But what she really couldn’t figure out was why, when she was so furious with him she was close to committing matricide, she was so hopelessly glad to see him, that he’d come back, to her. He’d been a prat, a noble idiot who couldn’t seem to stop martyring himself to needlessly protect her, and she was so angry with him for what he’d done, for leaving her again. But, at the same time as she wanted to slap him until he saw stars, she also wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe. 

It was confusing to say the least. 

She didn't know what to do; she needed time to think. But Remus was still standing there, his gaze on the floor as he waited for her to speak, and how could she think when he was here in front of her? How could she decide what to do when all that was racing around her head was the knowledge that he had come back?

When she’d opened the door and seen him, standing there in the rain, drenched, with an anxious and guilt-ridden face, she’d slammed the door on him, convinced he was a figment of her imagination. When she’d opened it again to see him still standing there, she’d simply stared, unable to fathom why he was on her doorstep. He’d said nothing, offered no explanation for his presence, and she hadn’t asked. She’d simply stood back to let him in. Inside the house he’d started to speak, but before he could get anything out she’d drawn her hand back and slapped him as hard as she could across his face. The slap had flung his head to the side and left her handprint clearly imprinted across his cheek, which had left her not without a certain feeling of satisfaction as she’d struggled not to repeat the action.

He’d turned his head back slowly and glanced at her with guilt and sorrow in his eyes before looking down at the floor. He hadn’t tried to speak again. Sensible of him really, because she wasn’t exactly in the mood for hearing what he had to say. And she knew that if he started to speak, she’d lose it, one way or another, and that wouldn’t help her to decide what to do. She hadn’t a clue what she was supposed to do now. 

Nowhere in her life had she ever received advice that could help her deal in anyway or part with what she was facing now. No one had ever told her anything that could help her with how to deal with her idiotic husband who’d come back from a self-imposed exile in an attempt to try and protect her from what he considered the stigma of his association after getting her pregnant. 

Somehow it hadn’t ever come up in conversation. 

If she could ever figure out what to do about this, she would definitely make sure that her unborn son or daughter knew what to do if they ever found themselves in a similar situation. Even the fact that she had gone through something close to this before didn’t help, as Remus had lasted for a year that time and she’d been there to shake it out of him… and… they hadn’t been married. This was different! Tonks resisted the sudden impulse to pull her hair in frustration. She couldn’t think properly-stuff that! She couldn’t think at all, about what to do… what was she going to do? What on earth was she going to do?

She allowed her eyes to drift back to her husband, drinking in the sight of him like she was starved, like it had been years, instead of only six days. Six long days. It had felt like years, even longer, perhaps, than that long year before their marriage. He was paler than usual, his scars standing out vividly on his unshaven face, his hair a tangled mess, bags under his eyes. Obviously she hadn’t been the only one to suffer from their long week apart. He looked awful, tormented, like he hadn’t slept all week. Which wasn’t unlikely; after all, the only reason she’d slept this week, instead of endlessly pacing the length of her room, had been because of her mum forcing potions on her, sternly reminding her of the little life that was now growing inside her… her mum! Oh Merlin, if her mum came back and found Remus here. There wouldn’t be anything left of him! She had to get Remus out of here before her mum came back. Angry as she was with him, she wasn’t about to let her mum kill him. And once he was out of the house, she’d be able to think again, breathe again.

* * * * *  
Remus stared at the door that had just closed on him, completely confused as to what had just happened in the last 10 seconds. Dora had told him to go away; but not forever… not yet, just to give her time to think. And then she’d quickly bundled him out of the house and shut the door in his bewildered face. The abrupt change from standing tensely in front of his wife to being suddenly pushed out of the house at top speed had left him dazed and wrong-footed, as well as without a clue as to what to do now.

This wasn’t an occurrence he’d factored in when he’d decided to face his wife and beg for forgiveness. In fact the whole thing hadn’t gone anywhere close to what he’d imagined; except for the slap… he touched a hand to his cheek gingerly and winced as it throbbed painfully. He hadn’t been surprised by the slap his wife had inflicted on him. And this one had definitely left a mark that would be there for quite some time. Which was no less then he deserved. 

He suddenly realised that he hadn’t said a single word the whole time he was in there, and neither had she, at least, not until she’d suddenly and fiercely ejected him from the house. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. She needed time to think. Okay, fair enough, but, Merlin, he couldn’t stand much more waiting! But-time to think, right. With a brief glance up at the house, he turned on the spot and Apparated back to his house.

* * * * *

Tonks peered out from behind the curtain, cursing quietly under her breath as she tried to keep her balance. Being pregnant certainly hadn’t improved her clumsiness, and it was turning out to be rather inconvenient as she attempted to spy on her husband as he stood outside her parents’ house. He was just standing there, staring at the door that she had closed on him just seconds before. She had never climbed stairs so fast in her life, and to her great surprise, she’d made it without stacking it on them. And now, she was hiding behind her bedroom curtains in order to spy upon Remus, trying desperately not to fall on said curtains and bring them crashing to the ground. Managing to gain temporary balance she saw Remus run his hand through his messy hair and then glance up at her window. Hurriedly she stepped backwards out of sight and promptly fell over, sprawling ungracefully onto the floor. Swearing, she got back to her feet, stumbling a little, and quickly returned to the window, only to see that her husband had gone. 

Despite having just spent six days entirely Remus-free, she felt oddly lost with him no longer there. She’d wanted him to go away so she could think clearly without his distracting presence, but now that he was gone, she found that he was occupying her thoughts more than ever. Sighing she stepped back from the window, carefully looking behind her this time, and sank onto the floor. Leaning against the wall she looked up at the ceiling without seeing it. She didn't want to have to make this decision, didn’t want to have to make this choice. It was too hard, she couldn't do this. But she couldn’t remain undecided, staying in a kind of limbo, going neither one way nor the other. She had to choose. 

She closed her eyes in despair while the light from outside began to fade as the sun sank down and the room around her became filled with bright orange light from the setting sun, and then that too faded away, leaving her alone in the dark.

* * * * *

Remus paced the worn carpet in front of the fireplace relentlessly, running shaky hands with nails bitten down to the quick through his hair. He turned desperate eyes to the clock once again, checking the time it displayed for the twentieth time in what had seemed long numerous hours, but which in reality had barely been twenty minutes. It showed twenty past four; he knew it extremely unlikely anyone, let alone her-Dora had never been an early riser- would Floo at this hour. But he couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten up half an hour ago, despite having gone to bed past midnight, after tossing and turning for several hours he’d given up the small hope he’d harboured of getting any sleep at all, and resumed his pacing.

Sleep had been scarce this last week, constantly evading his clutches as he agonised over his decision to leave Dora, slipping out of his grasp as he contemplated his reckless marriage and Dora’s subsequent redundancy and pregnancy soon after. He’d spent endless nights staring at the ceiling, memorizing its patterns and water stains, his heart in turmoil as he tried to convince himself that he’d done the right thing, that he’d done what was best for her, for the baby, for his child.

He’d never thought he’d be a father, never thought he’d be a husband for that matter. It was wondrous, it was absurd, it was impossible, it was wrong. People like him… He shouldn’t have done it, he shouldn’t have given in, but Dora had pleaded and argued and convinced him that it would be fine, she didn’t care, there was no danger. And he’d wanted to give in so desperately. And then she’d looked up at him with those eyes, and then she’d kissed him, softly but sweetly, and as she drew away she whispered one word softly in his ear.

‘Please.’

So he’d given in, and then he’d found himself falling deeper in love with her than he’d thought possible, and suddenly he didn’t care anymore, and he’d asked her to marry him.

And it had all gone downhill from there as reality came crashing back with shocking force when Dora became a target, when she lost her job, when they had to flee for their lives from Bellatrix, when she became pregnant.

So he’d fled.

Several sleepless nights later he’d gone to Harry, trying to find someway to escape, to try and justify his leaving her by finding a purpose. To make the world a safer place for her, and his child. But Harry hadn’t seen it that way and he’d fled Harry’s scornful, stinging words into the rain that had started to fall from the permanently overcast sky. But, eventually, Harry’s words had made him reconsider what he’d done; see that what he was doing was not the sensible decision he’d convinced himself it was.

He’d spent several more long hours out in the rain, not caring as he became soaked through, trying to figure out what to do now he’d stopped running. He knew he’d have to face Dora at some point, but he’d been deathly afraid she’d just turn him away without letting him try to apologise. It took him several more days before he’d gained the courage to even go to Dora’s parents’ house, and several hours of standing there, once more in the rain, watching the light in her room before he could make himself go and knock upon the door.

She’d been the one to open the door and she stared at him as he stared back. She was thin, so thin, and pale, her hair no longer its usual bright pink. And then she’d slammed the door on him, and his heart sank down to the core of the earth because it was as he’d feared. But then the door had opened again and Dora had stared at him before stepping back to let him in.

But she hadn’t taken him back, yet. But nor had she sent him away. And now, here he was, forever pacing and unable to sleep, stuck in some kind of limbo. It was torture, it was unbearable, it was like waiting for a death sentence to be passed, only much, much worse, and he simply couldn't stand the not knowing. But he had to wait, he could do nothing but wait, and it was driving him mad.

He glanced at the clock again, twenty-five past four, and continued past it on the path he was wearing into the carpet through his continuous pacing. As he passed by the fireplace again the fire suddenly blazed up and he whirled around just in time to crash into a body as it fell out of the fireplace. They tumbled together towards the floor. Remus inhaled sharply as his head hit the edge of the couch, hard, and then all his breath was knocked right back out of him by someone landing heavily on top of him. His head throbbed, and he groaned as he tried to put his hand up to check the damage. Next second he winced as whoever was on top of him tried to move off, winding him further as they placed elbows in his stomach, leaned heavily on his chest and then promptly tripped over his legs once they’d finally got off him. Pain now throbbed in most places in his body. He groaned again, and heard the unknown person swear. There was another loud thump from a little to his right and he felt the vibrations shudder through the floor beneath him. He shifted cautiously onto his elbows, wincing when new pains made themselves as he moved, leaning on the couch and opened his eyes. The scene that met his eyes nearly knocked his breath away for the third time in recent minutes.

Dora was sprawled on the floor a little way away. Remus struggled for breath as he stared at her; hardly daring to believe, to hope. He fought to suppress his feelings, preparing himself for the worst. He watched as, frowning, she struggled to sit up and his breath caught again as her eyes suddenly shifted up and met his. He held her gaze, trying not to let his apprehension show, though she would probably see straight through him, had always been able to. And there was something in her eyes, something hidden just behind the pain he could still see there that caused his vainly squashed hope to rise up again into his chest and stay there, resolutely remaining, despite his efforts to push it back down. But he couldn’t read her face as she looked back him, as she stood up and slowly made her way over to him. 

Remus couldn’t look away as she approached; he remained frozen on the floor where he’d fallen. A horrible feeling washed over him as she drew nearer, one of dread, helplessness and of being trapped. This was it. She had obviously come here to tell him to get out of her life, that she didn’t ever want to see him again. Why else would she have come? Yet. She had come, she hadn’t sent someone else, or told him by owl. A small flicker of hope tentatively welled up in his chest again, but it was quickly doused by his next thought. Dora was a typical Hufflepuff, with an overwhelming sense of loyalty; of course she would have felt obliged to tell him face to face. 

Remus stared up at his wife, standing over him like an avenging angel, and thought she had never looked so achingly beautiful. It seemed appropriate that his last sight of her should be one like this. The fire’s glow illuminated her softly from behind, causing specks of light to flare up in her short brown hair, giving it an almost ethereal glow, which, added to her pale, heart shaped face, gave her the look of something you might come across unexpectedly in some distant shadowed glade of an enchanted forest. He never wanted to look away; never wanted to forget this sight.

His heart thrummed in suspense as he waited for the words that would rip his heart from his chest and leave him gasping, bleeding and broken.

* * * * * 

Tonks looked down at her husband as he lay on the floor where she had knocked him in her typically clumsy emergence from the fireplace. He stared at her with what looked almost like fear in his eyes. He had made no move to get up, but remained where he was, shakily meeting her gaze. She tried not to show her emotions on her face, tried not to break down, to be calm, to be rational. She could do this, she could. She could look straight at him and tell him calmly that… She took a deep breath, and, okay, so maybe she couldn’t do this. But she had to. She had to. Didn’t she?

It made sense; was the logical thing to do. He’d hurt her so badly, gone away taking her heart with him, but she’d given it to him in the first place. She looked back down at Remus and suddenly she knew she couldn’t do this, she couldn’t send him away. It wasn’t sensible, but since when had she ever done the sensible thing in her life? And she couldn’t bear the thought of never being in his arms, of never waking up beside him again.

She extended her hand towards him to help him stand, and he took it warily, as though he expected it to be snatched away at any moment. Pulling him to his feet, she flung her arms around him. He stumbled slightly, caught off guard and his arms came tentatively then disbelievingly around her in return. And she was back in his arms and everything was alright again.

* * * * *

He was holding her. He was holding her in his arms again, something he’d thought he’d never be able to do anymore. She didn’t say anything, he didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to. He just held her tightly against him, reveling in the way her head rested on his shoulder, the familiar shape of her against him. 

And as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, he felt his child kick from between them. Dora raised her head and they shared a smile, and he knew that everything was going to be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism greatly appreciated :)


End file.
